


Somewhere Beyond the Wall

by Knight_fall



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lyanna!Snow, Prophecy, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knight_fall/pseuds/Knight_fall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen has a seemingly perfect life. By all acclaimed as inhumanly handsome and wise beyond his years, he is happily married to a kind woman of high standing, and has two healthy children with her. However, on the inside he is plagued with dreams and worries. These worries come to a culmination once it comes to light his wife won't be able to bear another child. Rhaegar's chief goal in life is to complete a prophecy, and for it he will do what must be done, even if this means traveling North.</p><p>Lyanna – just Lyanna, is a bold woman of the freefolk who knows what she wants when she sees it. </p><p>Basically a Jon-Ygritte story adapted for Rhaegar and Lyanna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

„My Prince, the preparations for our journey had been made.“

Rhaegar briefly raised his head to take in the sight of Arthur. „Good.“ He took another look at the paper before him, and then rubbed his forehead; a headache was starting to form there.

„If I may ask, is that the letter you are writing for Maester Aemon?“

„Aye,“ Rhaegar sighed. „I am announcing our arrival. I doubt he is expecting it.“

„You appeared worried still, My Prince. “ Arthur notes. „I am certain Maester Aemon will have some way of resolving this matter for you-“

Rhaegar rubbed his hands over his face. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks, he had been irritable, and he suspected he looked like death warmed over. „Can Maester Aemon invent me a Stark daughter, Arthur? For otherwise, I suspect this visit North will not be very fruitful.“

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. „That woman could might as well be speaking nonsense-“

„It isn't nonsense, Arthur,“ Rhaegar cut him off in a strong voice. „She told me something no one but me knew. She called her the way I call her. _My Promised One._ Not even you knew that.“ That unruly woman had approached him in the Godswood, touched a gentle hand to his cheek. _Believe in your dreams_ , she'd said. _Your Promised One is of Stark blood._

 „Please leave me be,“ Rhaegar demanded then, „I need to think.“

Arthur bowed and excused himself, but Rhaegar hardly paid him any mind. He could do little but return to the woman's words; initially, he'd even written them down, fearing he would forget. _Of Stark blood..._

No matter how he thought of it, from which angle he looked at it, it made little sense. Rickard Stark, the Warden of the North famously had three sons, precisely by the names of Brandon, Ned and Benjen. The Stark house had no daughters to be wed. No cadet branches besides the Karstarks. No bastards either.

_Who are you, my Promised One? Let me see your face._

It had always been thus. Rhaegar would fall asleep to a scene in a Godswood, there a woman who endlessly spun and spun and laughed, her skin pale as snow, and her locks dark as night. But whenever Rhaegar would move to approach her, move her hair out of the way and caress her face, she would disappear into thin air, leaving nothing but a faint smell of winter roses behind. It was then that he would wake up.

And ever since the day of Aegon's birth, ever since he were told Elia would not bear any more children, these dreams had become even more frequent, hardly allowing Rhaegar to get a good night's rest. He'd felt tortured, plagued. On a whim, he'd gone into the Godswood. Rhaegar had frequented the Godswood within the Red Keep before, feeling the closest to her when he was there. It were almost as if in the rustle of the red leaves he could hear her laugh, under the smell of pine could discern a trace of winter roses. If only Elia knew he'd been having a secret affair with a forest. 

But Elia never questioned his vision. She did not believe in it, that much had been plain, but she did not consider herself strong enough to contradict him either. Rhaegar left it be. He could afford to ignore it, minimize the significance of his dreams, and live yet another day of his life. But that hadn't been possible any longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I suck. I have three unfinished fics and instead of working on updates, my brain decided to think up a fourth one altogether. Later chapters will most likely be longer, this is just initial exposition. Do let me know what you think of the idea though!


	2. Chapter 2

 

The journey North had taken up around a moon of Rhaegar's time.

However, the deeper into his travels he went, the more he was convinced it would not be all for naught. His dreams had assured this; the first night he spent North of the Neck, Rhaegar fell into dreamless sleep, and the next morning awoke more relaxed than he had been in years. _I am nearing her._ For years, his winter maiden had been calling him, tormenting him and punishing him for failing to reach her, and having finally undertaken his search, Rhaegar was given relief.

She existed, she had to exist. Somewhere out there, there lived a fair maiden of Stark blood, and Rhaegar would take all the necessary steps to finally cross paths with her.

Then, the night before his traveling party would surpass Winterfell, he'd had another of his vivid dreams. Rhaegar fell asleep to wake up surrounded by weirwood, however, unlike ever before, his ears found nothing but silence. Without a laughing, twirling maiden in it to claim all of his attention, the Godswood had been empty, and the scenery unusually vivid, so much that to Rhaegar it seemed he could tell apart every single detail. Once he concentrated sufficiently he realized it hadn't even been a Godswood, but an enormous, lone Heart Tree, its long, intertwined roots grabbing at the earth, the face carved in the trunk laughing mirthlessly at him as blood-red sap dripped and oozed. The sight had been unsettling enough that it caused him to wake up, soaked in cold sweat.

That tree existed somewhere, and it had been a clue to his maiden's location. _Where are you, my Promised One?_

Luckily, Maester Aemon had an answer to this question. There had been only one known tree matching the description of the one from Rhaegar's dream, and it had been beyond the Wall, in the midst of an abandoned Wildling village by the name of Whitetree. What needed to be done had been clear from this point on, even with Arthur's tireless protests how it were simply too dangerous for a Prince to roam beyond the Wall, and for a tree nonetheless. But there had been no dissuading him; it had simply been fate, since Rhaegar had made it just before a long-planned ranging endeavor. Rhaegar decided he and Arthur, with another handful of guards would join.

Thus, through ice and snow, Rhaegar found himself on the path to his dreams. According to the men of the Night's Watch, the walk to Whitetree would take a couple of days, and they would set up camps at night. Only on the last night spent thus, did Rhaegar have another of his dreams. It had been the same as the last one, the chilling sight of the enormous Heart Tree, seeming as if it bled from its trunk, and silence. Rhaegar woke up. He could not wait any longer. Informing no one, not even Arthur, he donned his clothes and snuck out of the camp, heading toward the direction he knew the tree to be.

Finally reaching the Heart Tree, Rhaegar knelt in the snow, before its gigantic roots, and waited for something to happen, though he wasn't certain what exactly this was. _Why did you bring me here, my Promised One?_

Then, he heard a noise cut through the silent night, almost like the sound of a dry leaf crunching under boots. Alerted, Rhaegar rose to his feet, but before he had a chance to inspect his surroundings, a cold blade found itself beneath his throat.

„Stay still, you Crow, or I will cut your throat,“ a husky female voice said in his ear. By the slight feel of her against his back, Rhaegar knew he could easily shake her off, that was if it were not for the man before him, pointing an arrow at him, and a large white wolf beside him, growling.

Rhaegar slowly lifted his arms in the air. „I am unarmed. I wish neither of you harm.“

„Then what is this?“ the same girl asks, now down on the ground, next to his leg. She pulled the golden dagger from his boot, and Rhaegar saw her eyes widen.  

She ran up to her friend to show him, provoking half a thought in Rhaegar to use the opportunity for escape. However, as if sniffing his intention in the air, the wolf growled at him. The young man tightened his bow once more, clearly alerted. „Stay where you are.“

He cast a quick glance to the dagger, then, still looking at Rhaegar, told the woman, „This is no ordinary crow.“

„As a matter of fact,“ Rhaegar cleared his throat. „I am not a member of the Night's Watch at all. I do not wish any harm to anyone here. I am merely visiting.“

The other two quickly looked at each other, and laughed.

 „Visiting, huh?“ the young man said, while the woman quizzically looked him up and down. „Mance is going to love this. Let's go.“

* * *

 

With ropes tight around his hands, Rhaegar kept step with his captors. While he had attempted asking where exactly  there were going, he'd received few direct replies, and thus relied on gauging information from the dialogue his captors led with each other. Mance Rayder, who had certainly been whom the two of them referred to as _Mance_ , had also been known as King beyond the Wall, and had been a member of the Night's Watch who'd changed sides years ago. Given this, Rhaegar felt more confident in his ability to explain to the man who he truly was, and persuade him into letting him go.  That was, of course, if Rhaegar were to live for long enough to meet him. The white wolf, walking on the girl's heel would growl at him every once in awhile, making him flinch, and the girl would then laugh and promise the wolf she called _Snow_ that she would get her supper soon. Rhaegar only hoped he would not be that supper.

After hours of walking, with morn already starting to break through the darkness, they had finally reached what appeared to be an inhabited Wildling village. Rhaegar had received many odd and inquiring looks as his captors led him to the large tent before which there were several men dressed in furs much like his captors were. And inside, there had been the man Rhaegar guessed was Mance Rayder.

Being shoved before him none too gently, Rhaegar corrected his posture, and cleared his throat.

„First of all, if you would allow me,“ he started speaking. „I must say this entire affair is the result of a confusion. You see, I am not a man of the Night's Watch; I'm merely-“

 „I know who you are,“ the man said. „Forgive me if I don't kneel, but we don't do that here.“

„No need to kneel,“ Rhaegar responded. „I merely wish to go home. This is no more than a misunderstanding.“

„We found him by the Heart Tree,“ the young man from behind Rhaegar said. „He had this dagger with himself.“ He presented Mance with it.

„So, Prince Rhaegar, what brings you here?“ Mance Rayder asked.

Rhaegar had to go carefully about answering this. By now, he had concluded little harm is likely to come to him, at worst he would be held as a valuable hostage. However, the men travelling with him might be met with a more unfortunate fate. His absence has most surely by now been noted; he had been certain Arthur refused to return to the Wall without finding him.

„It matters little,“ Mance said. „What matters is what happens now. You would have me return you, wouldn't you?“

„If you would be so kind,“ Rhaegar responded. „And, of course, this kindness would most surely be rewarded.“

 Mance grumbles. „We don't need anything from you Southroners. Nothing you can give us, anyway. However, your father might as well drive an entire army up here, and go to war against my people to retrieve you. To protect my men, I will allow you to return.“

Rhaegar let out a little sigh of relief.

„No,“ he hears from behind. Rhaegar turned to see that same girl who'd held a knife under his throat. „I captured him, underneath the Heart Tree no less. By our customs, he is mine. You cannot let him go.“

„True,“ Mance said. „But he isn't just any crow. I'd be risking my people's lives keeping him here-“

„Will you truly treat him different for he is a prince? Since when do we care for names and titles?“

Mance sighed. „We do not care, but the Southroners do. If they think we've captured him alive, they will send a Southron army up here that has a hundred times more men than the Night's Watch. We won't be able to fight them, and even if we could, why?“

The girl's head fell down as she pouted. Rhaegar simply watched the exchange.

„You said if they think we have him alive. What if we make them think he is dead? Mauled by a bear?“

Mance seemed to consider this, and Rhaegar suddenly felt incensed. Why did this girl care? Why was she trying to make his life difficult?

„Eh, perhaps that would be best. The Southron king is mad enough; if he thinks we had him, he might send an army up here simply out of spite.“

„My father will not do such a thing,“ Rhaegar cut in. „I guarantee it. Even if he had such desires which is unlikely, I would do my best to prevent it.“

Mance seemed in thought again. „Even if I trusted you, this is safer. Also she's right, you are hers.“

 _Hers?_ What did that even mean?

„Take his clothes,“ Mance ordered, „and give him some new ones. The clothes with the rest of his belongings need to be found by a crow, and look like a wild animal attacked him.“

The girl herself, now grinning, approached Rhaegar and started tearing at his collar. Rhaegar firmly brushed her hands away.

„I can do it myself.“ For now, Rhaegar would comply; surely, there existed another way to make Mance Rayder reconsider.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: as you probably noticed, I transported Mance Rayder for about 15 years in the past, he's about the same age here as he was when Jon was beyond the Wall.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Rhaegar took a good look at his captor. Her hair was in dark, wild curls, such that one would say they hadn't been combed since the day she was born, and her skin was so pale it almost seemed translucent. Her eyes were grey and her lips were red. Despite the fact she was altogether unruly, and looked as if in need of a good bath, her base features appeared strangely dignified.

As far as being kept prisoner went, Rhaegar supposed being taken by this wisp of a woman was not the worst thing that could have happened to him. Aye, she had a bow and arrow, and she had a wolf laying at her feet, but she was still weaker than him, slighter, and sooner or later an opportunity for escape would present itself. Perhaps, if she would show herself to be reasonable, he could even persuade her into letting him go. There was little he couldn't offer her; he could give this girl and her entire family lands south of the Wall if she so wanted. Money had little value beyond the Wall, this he knew, but there had to be something that would compel her.

Rhaegar cleared his throat. „So, would you like to tell me in which way you have any need of me?“ No matter which trivial use it was, a substantial enough reward should outweigh it.

 „I will tell you once I've need of you. Silly Southroner.“

Rhaegar had been completely unaccustomed to being spoken to that way.

He straightened his shoulders as he would while having an argument at court, except he was beyond the Wall and his hands were tied with ropes. „If you don't mind, my lady, I would prefer to know now.“

She snorted, and turned only to briefly look at him. „Did you just call me a lady? You're even sillier than I thought.“ They kept walking.

„In that case, may I at least know by which name to call you?“

„Lyanna,“ she immediately says. „Nay, Lya,“ she corrects herself.

They walked further. Rhaegar was slowly getting tired unlike _Lyanna,_ which he attributed to the fact he was improperly dressed for the occasion, and well as unaccustomed to moving through tall heaps of snow. The ropes his hands had been bound in didn't help. She seemed to have noticed him lagging behind.

She stopped and turned, and, once he reached her, threw her fur cloak over his shoulders. He noticed she had another one beneath it.

„Lay down,“ she commanded. „We are going to get some rest.“

They both laid down, their bodies protected by the fur from the chilling snow; the wolf curled into itself under Lyanna's feet. Thinking the beast was enough of an incentive to stay, Rhaegar gestured to his ropes, hoping she'd loosen them but she'd only shook her head. He didn't know for how long they'd stayed there like this.

Since she only seemed to mock his politeness, Rhaegar attempted speaking to her more brazenly.

 „What do you want with me, anyway? Am I not just another _Southron Cunt_ to you?“ The indecent language still bothered Rhaegar at the tip of his tongue.

Lyanna snorts and then laughs, and it is loud and scary and it is unlike anything else he'd ever heard in his life. It was incredible that such a small woman could produce such an unladylike sound.

Finally, she says. „I've decided you are to be my husband.“

Rhaegar almost choked on this declaration. This woman was truly insane. 

 „I already have a wife-“ he attempted to explain.

Lyanna snorts. „I bet she's a true, little sweet Southron lady. But it doesn't matter. Not unless you were wed before a Weirwood tree.“

During his years as a Prince, Rhaegar had led and won many arguments. However, all these arguments were with people who had more or less appreciation for common sense. Lyanna or Lya, or whichever her name was, did not seem to have this quality.

 „But why? Why would you want me as your husband?“ Whatever had been Rhaegar's appeal in her eyes, it must have been some trivial, passing thing. It was surely not worth all this.

She sighs, and says in a gentler voice. „ Because I want you to give me babes. Sweet, little, silver babes.“ She looks off dreamily into the distance. „They would be special. No one has silver hair around here.“

Rhaegar kept looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. Or perhaps she never had it.

„Let us go,“ she says then, rising, and pulling on the rope whose end she had him on. Rhaegar reluctantly got up. „And where exactly are we going?“ All he could see around himself was snow, snow, and more snow. It seemed the freefolk had some of their own methods of orientation; they had to, living in such a uniform environment.

Not being dignified with a response, Rhaegar attempted reasoning with her once more. „Tell me, how is it exactly that you envisioned this? Do you plan on keeping me hostage forever? Do you not fear I will escape at the first chance that presents itself?“

„No,“ she tells him. „I will keep you hostage only for a little while, and then you will love me. And you won't ever wish to leave me.“

„And how can you be so certain of this?“

Lyanna huffs as if to call him a silly Southroner, but her disappointment could be seen by the way her head dropped slightly, and her red lips curled downwards into a pout. „Because why wouldn't you love me? Don't you Southroners arrange your marriages anyway? If your Southron father tells you to marry someone, or if a woman takes you and makes you hers, what difference does it make? I bet your Southron wife is like a dead fish beneath the covers anyway.“ Lyanna snorts quietly. „There's nothing she can do that I can't do.“

  _She can behave properly,_ Rhaegar thought, but hadn't said aloud. He'd had no need to antagonize his kidnapper further. And, strangely enough, he'd felt uneasy at the thought of hurting this silly girl's feelings.

 „I bet she can't even hunt. Or skin a rabbit.“

 „Women South of the Wall generally do not hunt, and they have little need for skinning rabbits,“ he'd explained, „so I suppose you're right. However, I still cannot stay here. You do not understand. I have a certain duty, certain obligations-„

„Then what do they do all day?“ Lyanna asks, frowning.

„Women South of the Wall?“ Rhaegar asked.

„Aye.“

Rhaegar sighed. „There are some notable exceptions such as the women of Bear Island. Given their specific circumstances of having to fend off frequent raids by the Ironborn, women take up arms as well. However, for most houses, it is generally expected of a man of high standing to be able to fully provide for his wife, as well as any children they may have, thus the women have little need for labor. Commonly, they make sure the inner workings of the castle run smoothly, and they tend to their children's needs. They also take up skills such as sewing or embroidering.“

„That sounds terribly boring,“ Lyanna says. „They sit at home all day! How do they not go insane?“ Then, she murmurs. „I'm glad I had been born on this side of the Wall.“

Considering his odd companion, Rhaegar returns. „I am glad for you, too.“

Rhaegar noted only now Lyanna had pulled him into an underground cave, the bottom of it filled with scalding hot water.

„Stay there, Snow,“ she told the wolf. The she-wolf let out a little whine and curled at the entrance to the cave like the most well-trained dog. Rhaegar had still been fascinated by a wild animal displaying such obedience.

„Do many men around here own wolves?“ he'd asked, as Lyanna led him further down. Once they were in level with the water, she undid his ropes, and Rhaegar rubbed his red wrists, relieved. There had been little chance of escape regardless, with the white beast guarding the entrance.

„I do not own her,“ Lyanna says. „She is my friend and she goes with me off her own will. I don't know why. She came to me a pup.“

Lyanna unceremoniously started taking off her clothes, so fast Rhaegar didn't even get a chance to avert his eyes. Her entire body was lean and muscled, her breasts were small and her skin inhumanly pale. Rhaegar had to concentrate in order for his eyes not to linger at the more indecent parts of her.

Then, as bare as the day she was born, she jumped into the water and dunked under. Once she emerged, with her hair slicked back, the sight struck Rhaegar; only with her forehead uncovered was the true extent of her beauty apparent; her delicate features, her blood red lips, and under wet lashes, her grey eyes, full of innocence and wonder.

Who would have thought that with her rowdy attitude, and all that hair and furs, there could be such a lovely creature underneath. Having seen her like this, Rhaegar's impression of her significantly changed; it seemed that much as her furs obscured her body, her attitude had been a shield for something softer, more vulnerable underneath, something she hid meticulously and hoped no one would ever notice.

 She swam some more, then she turned and grinned back at him. „Are you coming?“

„Uhh-„ Rhaegar was suddenly lost for words. „No.“

Lyanna bit her lip. „Come now, I promise I'll behave. Don't you kneelers like to sit in boxes full of water all day anyway? You won't have another chance to bathe any time soon.“

That last sentence had Rhaegar relent. „It is called a bathing tub,“ he felt the need to remark regardless, taking off his boots. „And it is not all day-“

„I know,“ Lyanna says.

And just like that, he was back to being irritated by her. Rhaegar began shedding his clothes, layer by layer including the furs she'd given him until he was down to a tunic and his breeches. He moved to take his tunic off but then noticed she had been studying him with rather hungry eyes.

„Turn around,“ he commanded her.

„No fair,“ Lyanna says, pouting. „I let you see me.“

„You did not _let_ me, I never asked to see you, you simply-“ Rhaegar sighed. Arguing with her was thoroughly exhausting. „Do as you wish.“

He took off the rest of his clothes, and, before lowering himself into the water, noticed she had shyly looked away nonetheless. _She is no more than a silly girl_ , he consoled himself. _She cannot be serious about any of this._

She did, however, keep her promise of behaving. To a degree. She'd began mercilessly splashing him, trying to coax him into chasing her, but Rhaegar did not allow himself be provoked on this account. Only her laughter was left ringing in his ears, scratching at something unspecified within Rhaegar's mind.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

By nightfall, they had reached their destination, a largely inhabited Wildling village. Once again, Rhaegar felt like an exotic animal on display as Lyanna led him by his ropes, like he were prey she'd been particularly proud of.

Though Rhaegar had been hungry to the point his stomach had been growling, the novelty of it all was wearing off and he'd felt more and more resentful of his captor. Especially since she seemed oblivious to her fault, and treated him with a sort of spontaneous closeness which did not fit their circumstances in the slightest. Annoyed by her, Rhaegar refused to eat the rabbit meat she was trying to shove into his mouth.

When it had been time to retire for the night, she led him into a tent. Inside, she'd scooted down into heavy furs, and patted the place next to her, as if he would wish to be near her if he could help it. Ultimately, Rhaegar made a place for himself, at a considerable distance from her. However, this did not seem to communicate much, since she'd scooted up to him moments later. Rhaegar nearly rolled his eyes; he moved to turn his back to her, but a little hand landing on his arm stopped him.

„I know you think I'm just a stupid Wildling girl, but I am not stupid. I know you had a life somewhere out there, South of the Wall. Even Mance says you're important to those kneelers. So I'll make you an offer. Take me, only just this once, and I promise I will release you. No one will dare touch you; I will point you toward the Wall, and you can go back home. Do you accept?“

It must have been that Rhaegar had truly lost his mind, since he took the time to contemplate this option. Lay with her this once, and be given his freedom, the right to resume his life where he'd left it? Few men would reject this offer; even more, Rhaegar would be lying if he said he didn't spend every second of this adventure thinking how to escape her hold. But now that it had been offered so plainly, he was almost disappointed. 

„You don't want to, do you?“ she asks. „Am I truly that repulsive to you?“

„No. Lyanna, I...“

She turned away from him with a sniffle. „Go on then. Go, you're free. Go away, I never want to see you again.“

 „Lyanna...“ He put his hand on her shoulder, but she vigorously shook it away.

Rhaegar wondered why did he care. After all, this was a nearly insane woman who took his freedom, kept him imprisoned at her own childish whims. In his position, he could simply take his leave, and have this entire adventure remain nothing but a bizarre memory. But his conscience did not allow him to leave her there, weeping, not until he at least explained himself.

„Lyanna. Come now, listen to me.“ She wouldn't do it; Lyanna stubbornly remained with her back to him, and he thought he could hear her sniffling into her furs. „Lyanna... it is not that I don't find you appealing...you are a very fair young woman,“ _even if a bit unkempt_ , his mind added, „and any man would be lucky to have you, but I...“

„You what?“ she says, still not looking at him. „You are some fancy Southron prince, with your fancy ladies wearing fancy gowns and going to fancy balls, and I am just this savage girl with a wolf, that you wouldn't lay with not even to save your life.“

„No,“ Rhaegar was firm in explaining. „You have to understand, Lyanna... My desires are irrelevant in this matter, I simply cannot be your husband. And, under our circumstances, I hardly think it is wise-“

„So you do want to?“ She asked, turning back to him. „You just don't think 'tis wise?“

Rhaegar sighs. „I suppose you could say that.“ Even if irritated by her, Rhaegar did find her attractive in a way that was not easy to explain. Perhaps it had simply been the intriguing nature of it; she was just so different than any other woman he had ever known.

Lyanna's fingers started tracing his lips. „Then, why isn't it wise? If you will leave anyway, what difference does it make to you?“

„Not me,“ Rhaegar said, gently grasping her fingers and moving them away. „You. You deserve someone who will appreciate you better than to leave you. And I am certain there are many worthy men here-“

„I don't like anyone here. I only like you.“

„You think that now, Lyanna...“

„No,“ Lyanna says, now moving to sit astride him. Rhaegar gasped as her groin made contact with his. „I know I like you. Please,“ then she says, keeping her hands on his chest, leaning to softly kiss his lips. „Please?“

 Rhaegar kissed her back; as he did, he rose to a sitting position, and Lyanna started tearing away at his clothes. Once his chest was bare, and there was nothing else she could reach, she moved shyly to pull at her own attire. She was trying to be brave, but underneath it all, he could see she was mortified.

„This is your first time, isn't it?“ He asked, frowning.

„No,“ Lyanna lied. „I've done _this_ plenty of times.“

Rhaegar chose not to argue. He took care nonetheless; he turned them around, so that now she was under him. Her legs were tightly wrapped around his waist still, and his eyes moved to her chest, small breasts with red nipples pebbled tightly in the cool air. He lingered there for a minute, nipping and kissing at the surrounding skin. Lyanna sighs breathily; she moves to get rid of her pants, and once she did, Rhaegar took that as cue to move further down. She pulled him by his hair.

„No,“ she tells him. „Maybe later,“ she corrects herself. „I want you inside of me.“

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Rhaegar opened one eye to the sight of her leaning against a hand, grinning above his head. She'd been watching him sleep.

She gave him a brief kiss on his lips, and said. „I am going to get us something to eat“. Then, with her bow and arrows fastened on her back, she crawled down from the bed, and disappeared from the tent. 

Rhaegar rubbed his eyes and looked around, still mildly disbelieving all that had occurred in the last few days. Even more, he wondered how was it that after everything, he still felt strangely at peace. The fact that last night he'd slept better than he had in years helped.Though the distant howls of Lyanna's wolf, _Snow,_ were heard, signifying the beast was following herself and not before the tent guarding him, he'd felt little urge to plot an escape.

Rhaegar yawned lazily, and stretched his arms above his head. He had to return, yes, but at least it could wait until he broke his fast. He needed to speak to Lyanna about this as well; he especially did after last night.

Last night, for which Rhaegar would be lying if he said he didn't take any pleasure in it. He couldn't deny it, a certain curiosity, certain fascination existed there. She'd enthralled him, intrigued him in the brief moments he would forget his circumstances, and that she was ultimately responsible for them. But it was difficult to be angry with her; even when she threatened him with life in captivity, or promised to let her wolf have at him, a certain darlingness about her could not stay far from the surface.

There had been a certain air around this new acquaintance of his, a certain _energy_ that drew one in, and perhaps this was the exact reason he capitulated to her advances despite knowing better. She, this woman, or _girl -_ for he could not yet decide what was the more appropriate qualifier, had this most unusual gift of making people feel what she herself felt. When she was sad, one could not stay indifferent to her tears, and when she was happy, one would feel compelled to laugh with her. This applied to mutual pleasure as well.

 Rhaegar's mind flashed with an image of her beneath him: pale skin flushed with pleasure, her lips that became even more red after being kissed, and that satisfied sparkle in her eye. She one part moaned and one part laughed through the entire ordeal. Laughed at _him_ for trying to spare her pain.

He could not help but compare; had he ever felt quite as in harmony with Elia? Quite as connected to what she was feeling?  Rhaegar couldn't remember, thus he concluded the answer was no. But then again, Elia hadn't been his Promised One, the mother to his Promised Prince, the woman Rhaegar had been in love with since he knew the meaning of the word, the woman he didn't even know but in his dreams. He knew Elia was not that woman even before he married her. But as his father had developed a custom of doing, he interfered with Rhaegar's plans. But then, this girl couldn't have been it either. She was no Stark after all, even if she looked the part. Finding his mysterious Stark maid - it was another reason Rhaegar had to return.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

„No! Tell me more,“ Lyanna whined most persistently. Rhaegar offered a sigh; taking in the pup eyes she was directing at him, he decided the much desired sleep was to be postponed some more.

After all, tonight had likely been the last of their nights together; though Rhaegar intended to speak to her about leaving even today, as they broke their fast, she'd smiled at him in that precise moment, and the words simply did not come out. Yet, Rhaegar understood this could not go on thus, for the last thing he wished for was leaving her with child. Thanks to this hesitancy and despite his better judgement, tonight they'd managed to lay together again, and then again. Which had resulted in their current situation, fighting off sleep with pillow talk.

„What else would you like to know?“ Rhaegar lifted a hand, and caressed it against the side of her face; her cheeks were flushed and warmed still from their love-making.

„What was your life like there? Do you have a mother, or a father...or any siblings perhaps? Do they have the same silver hair as you?“

Rhaegar could not help but chuckle; it appeared the happenstance of his hair was what earned him this adventure altogether. Lyanna had, for whichever reason, been quite fascinated by it.

„I have a younger brother, Viserys,“ Rhaegar answered at last. „How about you?“ His hand had slipped from the side of her face, and found a more comfortable position around her waist. He noticed her bite her lip for it. 

„I do not have any siblings,“ Lyanna says, thoughtful. „At least not any that I know of; though I'm sure my father sired another child or two, Mance claims he had been quite the heartbreaker.“ 

 „You are close to Mance,“ he further enquired.

„Aye," Lyanna confirms. „He had been a close friend of my father's, and you see, after he died, Mance nearly raised me by myself. All that I know to do, I owe it all to him.“

„And what of your mother?“ Rhaegar asked tenderly, already pitying the likely fact that she was an orphan. An image conjured itself in his mind, one of a little Lyanna, small and wide-eyed, with hair likely larger than herself, left all alone in the land of ice and snow.

„I'd never truly known my mother, given that she'd died giving birth to me. All that I know is that she had been a Southroner, just like you.“

„A Southroner?“ This information had indeed piqued Rhaegar's curiosity; reports of the Wildlings getting South of the Wall had been known to occur, but he hadn't been aware men took any wives on these occasions. Except for the one rumored occasion, which had skipped his mind even before being fully considered.

Lyanna began tracing a gentle hand across his chin. „Aye - on one of the occasions when he and Mance had scaled the Wall, my father saw her and fell in love, and, by our custom, the same night he stole her from her father's home.“ With the way Lyanna spoke on it, it had appeared the most romantic thing in her mind.

„Am I to understand this to be commonplace around here, abduction?“ Rhaegar asked part in jest, yet unable to avoid reflecting on his own situation. „You are saying you wouldn't mind if a strange man stole you off in the middle of the night?“

Lyanna scoffed severely at this, as if he'd said something ridiculous. „Well he can try to steal me, some silly enough have already tried. But now they are missing fingers, or an arm, or a leg...“ Lyanna trailed off, sparing a look to the wolf slumbering in the corner of her tent. „And even if she doesn't get them,“ Lyanna explains, „a knife or an arrow always does the trick.“ She seemed oddly proud of herself for, ahem, scaring away any potential suitors.

„Wouldn't it be easier to simply court someone? Perhaps fewer limbs would be severed this way?“

„Court?“ Lyanna snorted. „Courting is for Southron pansies. We steal to show that we can. If a man can carry you off in the middle of the night, then he can protect you and your children when the true winter comes. Besides,“ Lyanna wrinkled her nose slightly, as if still offended by his distaste for how her parents met. „My mother loved my father fiercely. She didn't even try to fight him as he stole her, he'd already seduced her with his harp.“

„Bael the Bard?“ The name of the legend came easily enough to Rhaegar's lips. The coincidences between the tale well known in Westeros and what Lyanna had been telling him had been striking. Bael the Bard had using his musical prowess famously seduced and kidnapped a Northern noblewoman, taking her from her father's home.

A Stark precisely. Lyanna's mother. _Of Stark blood..._ So, this had been the explanation for it. This newfound, uncontrollable attraction he felt toward her. _It is you..._

„What?“ Lyanna asks then. „Why are you looking at me like that?“

„Oh, Lyanna,“ Rhaegar offered no further answer; with a rare smile on his lips, he merely moved to kiss her, and chased away any thought of leaving soon far away from his mind.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took me so long to post this, but at least this chapter is longer than usual! Also, while I do have a rough outline of where I want to go with this, I'd be very interested to hear if anyone has any ideas or requests for smaller sub-storylines, if I can incorporate any ideas you may have, I will :)

 

Days had extended into a fortnight, a fortnight into a full moon, but Lyanna still felt about him the same as the first time she laid eyes on him, like he were a very delicious, but at the same time forbidden meal. Rhaegar sleeps beside her now, and he is so beautiful when he does – nay, he is always beautiful to the extent Lyanna thought no one, let alone a man could be, it is just that when he sleeps, she feels freer to observe him, study every feature slowly and wonder how was it that they added up to such a handsome face. Lyanna nearly didn't want the other spearwives to look at him, yet at the same time she did, she'd felt so proud at the thought that he was hers.

 _I must give you a babe_ , she thought. _If I give you a babe, you'll never leave me again._ Indeed he promised not to leave, he promised he prefered the warmth of her furs to whichever type of hard, spiky chair it was that he was meant to inherit from his ancestors, and Lyanna believed him. To a degree. He was a prince, a Southroner still, and if he ever got tired of her, he surely would not forget where he came from. And Lyanna would never see him again.

She'd shifted the leg that was between the two of his, suddenly desirous of him, and trying to jolt him out of sleep. At first he frowned without opening his eyes, clearly awoken but annoyed, and Lyanna waited patiently for his exquisite eyes to open. _Indigo_ , she had recalled. The color was called indigo.

„What?“ He'd asked in a hoarse voice, barely managing to keep his lids up.

„I want you,“ Lyanna simply informed him. For a minute she kept his sleepy gaze, expecting him to take initiative; once he did not, she reached over to further relay her desires with a kiss. She could have just devoured him if he would let her, but he seemed less than cooperative, and curious as to why that is, Lyanna finally pulled away.

 „You are simply insatiable. You do understand, that just like with anything else, lovemaking can also be done in excessive amounts?“

Lyanna giggles in response. „No.“

„Well,“ Rhaegar said. „Either way, I would like to sleep now, if that is fine with you.“

Lyanna pouted up at him severely. „But you're spoiling all the fun.“

In response to that, she thought she heard him mutter something that sounded an awful lot like _it was fun the first three times, now it's just tedious_ , and scandalized, Lyanna hit him on the arm.

„What?“ Rhaegar asked. „You know, you are not the one that does all the work.“

„I can do some of the work if you'd like,“ Lyanna said in a husky voice again, crawling onto his lap like a cat.

„I would like if you would sometimes,“ Rhaegar deadpanned. „But starting tomorrow. Now I would like to sleep.“ With those words, his hands firmly shifted her hips away from his, and, without waiting for her to move, his eyes drifted closed.

„Huh. “ Lyanna huffs, offended. „Fine, then.“ She climbed down in defeat, and snuggled down to sleep, and, ignoring her indignant attitude, Rhaegar's arm easily found her waist. Then, after some time, when he likely already thought her asleep, she let herself say. „You'll come begging me to lay with you way before I will you, just wait and see.“

„I very much doubt that,“ murmured Rhaegar, half-asleep himself.

„Just you wait and you'll see.“

And indeed, Lyanna kept to her word, even as she acknowledged this might make him cross with her. She hadn't touched him, she hadn't kissed him, and when he'd tried, not nearly soon enough to her liking, she'd rejected him with a fierceness of a petulant child. She would not beg him, she would not, nor would she have him pity her. Because what would be of it if she wanted him and he did not want her?

Time had went on, however, and besides herself Rhaegar had also begun speaking to others, namely Mance. Mance's crew was however more interested in listening to them and even more studying Rhaegar's unusual appearance which especially went for the spearwives, and made Lyanna feel oddly possessive of him again. She did not conceal it well, at least not from Snow, who must've sensed her anger and growled at the two women who watched him blushing and exchanging words.

Mance and Rhaegar, the two of them understood each other well, both knowing the Southron way of life, Lyanna supposed, yet she was surprised when Rhaegar displayed great interest for Mance's harp. _He knew how to play._ And did he, the song he chose to play and sing along with had been so hauntingly sad Lyanna couldn't help but cry. While no one else dared, Mance looked at her strangely for this, and with tears in her eyes, Lyanna shot him back a venomous stare.

As reward for his extraordinary performance, Mance poured Rhaegar some more ale, claiming it had been no „Arbor Gold“. Lyanna failed to grasp what he was speaking of.

Only once she and Rhaegar returned to their tent, Snow on their heels, did she notice the copious amounts of ale did a number on him. He'd told Snow to stay outside, which she did once Lyanna confirmed the order too, then once they entered he grabbed her with both his arms, leaning his forehead against her own, clearly displaying the desire to kiss her.

His lips soon begged against her own, but to no avail, Lyanna would not open them. He'd appeared so crestfallen she nearly laughed, but knowing that would defeat her efforts, she composed herself. Rejected, Rhaegar found another place to scrape for mercy at; his kisses traced the path of her neck, as if he wished to drown there. „I am sorry sweetling,“ he says. „I truly am. I will never turn you down again.“

„Huh, truly? “ Lyanna says raising a brow, unimpressed . „So you do concede that you've lost?“

„ I concede to anything you want,“ he says, his lips still hardly parting from her neck. Lyanna now let herself grin and rest a hand in his hair; throwing her head back, she allowed herself fully enjoy the feel of it. She would not deny him, especially when he came to her so sweetly to beg.

His lips soon made their way upwards, coming to brush at the place between her jaw and her cheek.„Please don't be angry with me; I love you so much, my sweet. And I miss you, more than I'd ever want to feel.“

Despite his mild drunkenness, Lyanna believed him for every word of it. She angled her head, and kissed him back, this time offering him proper access to her mouth. It evoked a considerable moan from him, who was typically silent as the dead of night.

The both of them moved backwards, riding each other of clothes as they went, until they came to couple on the furs that served as their bed instead. Hardly practicing patience, Rhaegar grasped a nipple with his teeth, which served Lyanna rolling her hips.

„I don't think I've ever wanted you as much as I want you now,“ Rhaegar confesses between his breaths, his hand resting between her thighs. With it there, Lyanna could hardly lie to him. Instead, she extended a hand and reached for the laces of his trousers, the only garment that still remained separating them. 

One shift of his muscles, one simple push, and he was buried deep inside of her. Lyanna cries out in pleasure; her arms ended up wounding themselves around his neck, and her fingers pulling at the hair near his scalp. It felt good, it felt as if she had been whole. He didn't rush, he never rushed, he knew she needed her time, though today perhaps merely touching her would be enough. And true to it, his fingers never went anywhere near her, and she started shaking from the friction alone. Only on the next occasion did he join her as well, and the both of them stayed intertwined thus, breathing in harshly, catching their breath. Then, Rhaegar rolled over to rest beside her.

Lyanna joined him soon enough, scooting up against him, and resting her head atop his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of it, then he sighed. „My dearest, my darling, my love. Tell me, where were you my entire life, where were you?“

„In your dreams,“ Lyanna says, tracing her fingers against his lips. He looked at her as if a ghost had suddenly been in her place.

 


End file.
